


so this is love hm hm hm

by londondungeon2



Series: Gifts for Melodyofthevoid's Royalty AU - invader zim. [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Attempted Murder, Childhood Trauma, Drowning, Gen, Mommy Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25746658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londondungeon2/pseuds/londondungeon2
Summary: He watches muted hues of green spill along with speckles of red. Seaweed and salt-water spew from his lungs as if someone had violently squeezed them like bagpipes. The marine drool lands upon catatonic clouds.Mother, I love you too.A small, faded gray fish flops from his mouth, a ugly eye. When Zim looks up, those two ocean moons finally turn to face him but are no longer loving. Her lips are indigo, her face is pale and light only by her glowing eyes.“Little one, swim.” Her Majesty commands.
Relationships: Almighty Tallest Miyuki & Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: Gifts for Melodyofthevoid's Royalty AU - invader zim. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867648
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	so this is love hm hm hm

**Author's Note:**

> still based off Melodyofthevoid's Royalty AU but I didn't gift it because it's not real a big work - I have one more big draft planned because this AU is literally my favorite spanning across the entire Invader Zim fandom.

Zim knows, so harshly it seems to be a mental engravement, that when he lies his head on his pillow that dreams of his mother are fleeting hopes rather than memories.

Babies hardly can recall much - maybe snapshots at two, complete photographs at seven. Growing up just naturally causes that loss - the brain of a child is not something to regain. More candles is a celebration and a funeral.  _ So his dream cannot be truth! _ It is scientifically impossible for a brain born twenty-four months ago to carry and construct a memory so vivid, with lucid smells and rich touches. He concludes, linen kissing his tears away, a dream of a mother’s love is a false security.

Zim is weak, so he allows himself liberty to walk into a nightly nirvana. He tucks all the pompous teachings and destones a wall, fleetingly and momentarily, to grant himself this … this un-princely sight. The entire fantasy feels to him like watching a crab’s graying-pink body thump out the broken mouth of their shell, a heartbeat in sleek obstinate floors; his dream is the one vulnerable, mouth-like crack, in his armor and he watches it squirm and thump thump thump.

When it begins, she is not facing him and is facing him at the same moment. She kneels onto the softest carpet known to men’s fingers in a sky blue nightgown, talking - never cooing at the small bundle in her spindly arms. Waterfalls of black submerge around the bundle and the mother’s pale face - it is only them in a tunnel of midnight hair who share this moment. Above Zim, her blue eyes appear as twin moons.

Yet, she is not facing him too. Because there is another him in this abstruse dream - who is seven now and no longer able to be held so tenderly. Zim starts at the door as an observer, makes a small trek on what he imagines clouds must be like or he’ll be sorely disappointed, and stops behind her spine. 

And he stands, a lightning bolt stabbing through his nose as he holds back tears, and does nothing more. He stands behind the enigmatic woman who sat, showered, and ate with him morphing underneath an astronaut helmet of her  _ own  _ skin for nine months. 

She is talking, as Zim had stated before. Her voice is more than honey, it is lemonade in summer and peppermint in winter. Her vocal cords shapeshift into whatever he needs into the moment, accommodating to the seasons of his depression. Tonight, it is loving. 

“You are so tiny. My tiny prince, I am beginning to wonder when someone plans to squish you,” she muses. 

The bundle shrouded under her protection giggles happily, innocent and dumb. It rings true that he is unnaturally tiny for his family tree - the knowledge makes him ache and mourn. Zim often thinks of breaking his ankles to extend them with rods of metal. 

“If someone does plan to stomp you” _ \- like a cockroach _ \- “you promise your mother that you will bite off their toenails and spit irreversible infections on their feet,  _ yes?” _

The bundle laughs in some sort of agreement, her spindly fingers starting to tickle at his belly. The Zim behind her listens to it, aching and mourning. He tries to copy this sound - so empty of insecure triumph and so flooding with mirth. It feels like crows’ beaks are attacking his throat, unnatural. He has forgotten how to laugh like that.

“Mother loves you, little prince. Mother adores you so much, remember that. Oh my little one. Tiny prince, mommy loves you.”

He wants to tell her he will never forget that. It is evermore a challenge as it is difficult to laugh like  _ that _ again and create memories at two. Zim, who is at the ripe age of seven, tries to speak to this loving version of his mother who breathes no ice. He finds himself choking. 

He watches muted hues of green spill along with speckles of red. Seaweed and salt-water spew from his lungs as if someone had violently squeezed them like bagpipes. The marine drool lands upon catatonic clouds.  _ Mother, I love you too.  _ A small, faded gray fish flops from his mouth, a ugly eye. When Zim looks up, those two ocean moons finally turn to face him but are no longer loving. Her lips are indigo, her face is pale and light only by her glowing eyes. 

“Little one, swim.” Her Majesty commands. 

He breaks the surface of the water like it is a crab shell. A large inhale of oxygen darts through him, a large exhale of salt drips from him. Limbs kick senselessly by his side like he is a jellyfish wrestling with an invisible net. Zim looks around fitfully.

He sees his older brother’s face on the shore, two eyes like eclipses, waiting for him to sink under again because one more, just one more wave should be enough. Unfortunate for Red, Zim learns to swim fast. And when Zim squeezes at the sand, he will begin to bite and infect.


End file.
